Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Shopping is painful. I’ve never been a huge shopper, but I’ve never been a hater of it either. After Day led me to a lingerie store off the Champs-Élysées, one she found after an afternoon of random walking around, we headed back onto the main street and passed a thousand designer stores.
Now, we’re in a high-end store I barely caught the name of, and I’m feeling like a fish out of water. I’m too scared to touch anything or, god forbid, look at a price tag. This is crazy and this isn’t me.
I wish I could be the kind of woman who’s able to spend a man’s money without batting an eyelid.
“How do you do it?” I ask Dayton, watching her hand three items to the clerk.
“I imagine it’s my money and not Aaron’s.”
That would work if I had this kind of money.
“You’re really not comfortable here, are you?” she asks quietly when she comes back to me.
“It’s not that. Maybe a bit.” I run my fingers through my hair. “I don’t have a right to spend his money. It’s not mine to spend.”
“Olivia Warren. You listen to me right now.” She grabs my chin and makes me look at her. “He’s giving you his card. You know why he’s giving you it?”
I shake my head.
“He’s expecting you not to spend anything more than the underwear because you’ll justify it as a business expense. Correct?”
“Yes,” I reply begrudgingly.
“If you go back to him without a pair of shoes and a dress for dinner, he’ll know your decision to remain…uncommitted…is your final one.”
“So you’re saying that, if I spend his money, I’m telling him I’m open to the idea of an actual relationship? You know this is bullshit, right?”
“Men are just as sensitive as we are to this stuff. Just in different ways. So you can find a dress in here and give you both a taste of the future or you can walk out empty-handed and taste loneliness.”
I stand up. “I hate it when you’re right.”
She smiles. “There’s a blue dress over there you should consider.”
I go to where she’s pointing and pull it off the rack. She’s right. I should consider it. Skin-tight, knee-length, royal-blue lace, long sleeves. It’s a perfect dress. Perfect to be peeled off prior to sex. Or cuddles, I add, reminding myself what this means.
“Okay,” I whisper to myself. “No looking at the price tag.”
I check the label and, seeing that it’s my size, take it to the register. I hand it and the card over before she can tell me the price and leave like my ass is on fire.
Outside, I take a deep breath. Holy. I just spent a ridiculous amount of money on a dress from a card that doesn’t even have my name on it.
“Well, that was like watching a cow try to fit in at high school prom,” Dayton quips, taking my elbow and guiding me three stores down.
Manolo Blahnik. Oh. Okay. This I can get on board with a little better.
We try on almost every pair in our sizes before I settle on a simple black pair of heeled pumps with glitter ankle straps. Then I grab my phone and dial Tyler’s number.
“Is my card still in one piece?”
“Yes.” Bastard. “I admit, your faith in me is overwhelming.”
“Your temper is awful when you’re offended. Don’t think I’ve forgotten the blue underwear incident.”
“That was unexpected. So was this, but whatever. You are aware this breaks the rules, aren’t you?”
He laughs. “Baby girl, we’ve already broken every rule we ever had. This is the most unconventional sex-only relationship in the history of the world.”
“I suppose.”
“So, did you buy anything?”
“Surprises are fun, aren’t they?” I smile. “Hey, when did you want to do that shoot?”
“So you bought lingerie,” he hums appreciatively. “How about you bring your sexy little arse back to the hotel room and we’ll get started?”
My lips curve. “Don’t wear tight pants. It could be uncomfortable for you, honey.”
“Wear pants? Who said I’d be wearing pants?”
Dayton helps me change in the car. Or rather, she holds her coat between us while I do. Given Tyler’s reaction the last time I showed up without clothes on, I’m ready to take it a step further.
I’m going to make sure this shoot is nothing but pure torture for him.
I shove my clothes in one of my bags and wrestle myself into my coat. The bones of the light-pink corset dig in as I contort my body to maneuver myself into the thick fabric of my coat. One of the straps clipped to the top of one of my stockings comes undone, and Dayton reaches over and redoes it.
“Here,” she says. “Do this and they’ll stay on. Trick of the trade.” She does some odd fabric thing I’ll never remember and orders me to turn over so she can do the back ones. I let her do it.